Galactic Civil War One-Shots
by TheUltimateCombo
Summary: A series of one-shots, and sometimes small arcs, focusing on the perspectives of the Galactic Civil War. Half in the shadows of the Empire, half burned in the flames of the Rebellion. Timespan: From at least 8BBY to 5ABY. Featuring original Imps and Rebels who make up most of the narrative. Main characters guest star.
1. Shadow of the Force

_Mystis, 2BBY_

The grey skies above Mystis were a constant, the chilled wind carrying softly through the tall, black trees. A dry planet, Mystis was defined as a ball of grey and black. A land of shadows, even eerier than Umbara despite its relative light, and home to the misty Psydow. A race of oily black beings, fluid with the world in which they lived, and largely indifferent to the galaxy at large.

Mystis, like many remote worlds, saw conflict during the Clone Wars, though ultimately, neither side won its control. It remained a neutral world, a quiet world, one that could even silence itself from the Force. Yet strangely, Vader felt pulled in its direction. Another stop in his quest to destroy the Jedi for good. It had been years since he had sensed the Force so strongly on a distant world. So long had it been, that he believed his quest to be over.

Except, even prior to this, Vader had entangled with Jedi remnants quite recently, in the forms of Ezra Bridger, Kanan Jarrus, and even his old apprentice, Ahsoka Tano. Still, the recent surge in Jedi activity disturbed Vader, and he sensed the patience of his master Sidious growing ever shorter by the day. He quickly gathered a strike team and headed for Mystis.

Upon arriving, their _Lambda_ -class shuttle _Saxxon_ landed in a patch of clear land, surrounded by forest on the edge of a stream. Vader looked at his team. They weren't Inferno Squad, but they would suffice. Ivane Diggory, a newly promoted sergeant, who believed the Empire could do much good for the galaxy. Vader both admired and despised his naivety. At his side was Corporal Mer'efel'e Pox, dedicated to keeping the troops in line. Ark Rayne, Idian Jonz, and Seeven Corrn rounded off the ground troops, with newly graduated scout Rina Rilde finishing off the team.

Everyone on board the shuttle felt tense by the dark, foreboding presence in their midst. Vader had remained silent the entire trip, never once uttering a word as to the nature of their mission. At this point in the Empire's struggle against the Rebellion, everyone knew that Vader was the Emperor's secret hand, executing his most classified assignments. Yet only few knew the nature of Vader's assignments. Only a handful of individuals knew that Vader was a Jedi killer, and the best there was.

Once they had landed, everyone began gearing up. Mer'efel'e approached Ivane at the gunrack.

"Digger, what're we doing here?"

"How should I know? He hasn't really been sharing a whole lot."

"Well, I mean, we can't just go in blind. Think about it, we're not special forces. Even if we don't need to know everything, we need to know enough to be effective."

"Corporal."

The two froze. Ivane met the icy red lenses as Mer'efel'e turned around.

"Yes'sir?"

"Your mission is to accompany me, and provide escort. Nothing else. We leave in ten."

Vader departed. Ivane shared a look with his Corporal.

"You're right, Fel. We might not be special forces. But we better act like it."

The troops slowly descended from the _Saxxon_ , holding a steady aim into the distance. Vader stared into the trees ahead, reaching out through the Force, attempting to connect his presence with that of his prey. He turned to his squad and did a headcount.

"Where's our scout?" he inquired.

"Coming sir!" Private Rilde hurriedly stumbled down the ramp, adjusting her helmet. "Sorry, I was just, um, calibrating my targeting sensors."

"You will be our pathfinder. Take point."

Rina nodded, clutching her rifle and stepping carefully ahead through the silver stream. Vader strode behind her, followed by Diggory, Pox, Jonz, and Corrn, with Rayne securing the shuttle ramp before trailing the group.

The forests of Mystis were surreal. Unlike planets such as Kashyyyk, or Endor, these trees did not possess the greenery of their counterparts. They were still freakishly tall, but were black and oily in appearance. The "leaves" hung and gathered like shadows. Long vines snaked down the trunks of many, with silent creatures slithering and crawling through the cracks of woodland.

"This is giving me the creeps," Ark commented.

"It's like everything's watching us," Mer'efel'e remarked.

"I kinda like it," Seeven said, tapping the barrel of his E-11.

"Sure, dark and creepy. Your kind of place," Idian replied.

"Cut the chatter, squad," Ivane quipped. "Lord Vader, where are we headed? Some sort of settlement, maybe?"

"What's your hurry, Sergeant?"

"It's just that, well, it's getting dark. We should set up camp soon. But of course, that's up to you, sir."

"I spot a clearing up ahead," Rina chimed in.

"Then we will settle for the night. Lead the way," Vader ordered.

The air was silent. The sky was black as shadow, starless. The only color on this bleak world was the roaring mix of red, yellow, and orange making up the campfire. Vader stood at the edge of the camp, searching for his quarry through the Force. Though the air around him now still, the Force still screamed to him. A cry of unparalleled dread. A strong, steady whine rippling through the Force, originating from the heart of the planet itself. As if this world, this black rock, were afraid somehow of Vader. Mulling over this, Vader had to recall knowledge of the planet from the Jedi archives.

Mystis was a unique world, a singularity in all it possessed. The Psydow, the trees, and even the skies were all united, extensions of what some would almost consider a sentient body. Should a fate befall one Psydow, the whole planet would react. Vader wondered if he was walking into a trap. It would suit the trickery of the Jedi, to lead an enemy into a checkmate. Yet Vader was determined not only to survive, but to save the lives of his tagalongs.

"What do you think he's thinking about?" Idian asked.

"Who'll be the first to get choked," Ark snidely remarked.

"Tempting fate, Ark?" Mer'efel'e replied cheekily.

"Oh, I intend to take one for the team."

"Serious up, troops," Ivane interrupted, "Whatever we're doing here, this planet's been giving me the creeps. So, the sooner we're finished here, the better. The only way we'll keep our schedule is if we're early to bed, early to rise. I'll take the first watch, the rest of you get some shuteye."

"Alright boys, you heard the man. Get some rest," Mer'efel'e said.

"Can I volunteer Idian for second watch," Ark asked.

Ivane approached his superior.

"I'll take the first watch, sir. You should rest."

Ivane broke into a cold sweat as he saw Vader reach for his hilt.

"I must depart for a bit. Stay here in case anything happens."

With that, Vader ignited his crimson blade, venturing into the forest.

Vader did not know how long he had been travelling, but despite all his protests, he was tired. Though as his body, or what remained, grew weaker, the voice in the Force grew stronger. And it changed song, from one of woe to one of victory. Eventually Vader stepped into a clearing, yet darkness surrounded from every angle. He gripped the hilt of his lightsaber tighter. His breathing cut through the tense, still air. His stance was every bit that of a warrior's, ready to face the enemy that taunted him, the challenge that awaited him, the catch that yet alluded him.

In the darkness, the pitch black that got blacker still, a figure stepped toward Vader. Though invisible to the naked eye, Vader could clearly sense them through the Force. He remained silent; the hum of his blade and the sharp intakes of his mask cutting through the night. Then came the sound of another lightsaber snapping to life. A blade of white emerged. Vader had seen that color of saber once before. But was it possible for Ahsoka to have returned? Vader certainly knew of no Jedi who carried a white blade, even among those who wielded reclaimed lightsabers. Then he wondered, was it a metaphor? A symbol of the Light to die?

He waited for his opponent to make their move. Suddenly, a whisper floated through the air, with the distinct rasp of a Psydow.

 _I heard the rumors of a Jedi killer, yet I remained unimpressed. However, you have created quite the disturbance in the Force. Can you hear it? The planet cries out in terror. It fears pain. You bring it pain._

"Do you hope to stop me?"

 _Stop you?_ A raspy chuckle, _I have drawn you here, to destroy you. Mystis is a perfect example of the Force. All of its lifeforms are connected. They all feel its joy, and its pain. And they must rise to protect it from harm._

"They needn't worry. I only intend to inflict a small wound."

 _Your overconfidence will be your undoing._

Powerful seconds go by, before the battle ignites. The clashing of red and white against the darkness of Mystis lights the sky. Parried blow after parried blow proves to test Vader's skill and prowess. After his recent failures, he needed to prove himself to his master once again. He needed to prove that he was worthy of being Sidious' apprentice. A slip of his wrist, and Vader's right arm was promptly slashed open, revealing the hidden circuitry. Still operational, Vader switched dueling hands, Swinging back hard with his left. The Psydow caught the blow perfectly, swinging up on the clash, and bringing her saber down over Vader's head. His knees buckled, his boots sunk into the ground. He struggled to keep the parry above his head.

 _You are tired and weak, Jedi killer. The Dark side's reign of terror is over._

Blaster shots rang out. The Psydow shrieked in pain, dropping its attack on Vader. Ivane, Mer'efel'e and Idian pelted the alien with shots, hits ultimately absorbed by the Psydow. A gust of force went out, sending the three Imperials tumbling. Seeven and Ark ran in to assist Vader, but were grabbed and pelted away. Rina ran to help Vader up, as the Psydow swung its saber towards them, cutting open Rina's armor, and dislocating a few of the plates. The scout rolled away, unconscious and smoking.

 _Your minions cannot save you, Jedi killer. Your end has come._

Vader looked around at his fallen troops. Ivane crawled over to inspect Rina. Vader looked back at the Psydow in front of him. She raised her weapon for a finishing blow. Vader grabbed his lightsaber, replying,

"Never!"

Her downward swing offset by his upward one, Vader regained his stance, balancing himself before striking repeatedly. Psydow were not often undone by conventional means, but Vader's mincing applied a raw strength, backed up by his connection to the Force. The Psydow screeched its last breaths, and the world once again fell silent to Vader. Mystis' solidarity from the Force was established once more.

"Rina? Ri! Wake up, Ri. Stay with me!" Ivane shook the lifeless body of his teammate. His helmet was tossed aside, and in the lightening darkness, Vader could see the fearful eyes cast his way. Vader stood to full height, ascertaining the condition of his other troops before deciding that Rina required the most help. Vader slowly approached, and knelt before Ivane and Rina. He placed his left glove on one of her slash wounds, tilting his head to look at Ivane.

"Thank you for your assistance, Sergeant."

"Yes'sir," Ivane stuttered.

"She will be fine. All she needs is some Bacta. I will also…aid…her recovery."

"Understood, sir."

"You share a deep concern for her."

"She's the youngest of us, sir. Recently graduated."

"I see," Vader could almost feel the wound closing, "I appreciate her tenacity, then. She aided me at great peril, as did you all."

"It's our duty, sir."

"Perhaps," Vader concluded.

Having rejoined the fleet, Vader sat in his chamber aboard the _Devastator_. Sidious had demanded a full report on his whereabouts, seeing as Vader had hidden this escapade from his master. After learning of the defeat of a Psydow Jedi, Sidious smiled wickedly. Vader breathed in relief, he had regained the favor of his master. Now the question remained, for how long?


	2. Flight Simulator

_Hoth, 3ABY_

Krat Nyo hated two things: snow, and tunnels. But the two combined was a nightmare of unmatched proportions. He hated snow for the simple reason that it was accompanied by white out, extensive shoveling, and, of course, freezing temperatures. He hated tunnels because they were tight, disorienting, and could lead into all manner of traps. In his time at Echo Base, he had run into a few such dangers, such as wandering Wampas, and prowling Pantran whitefangs. After which expeditions, the Alliance would seal off the tunnels for good. This meant that Echo Base and its surrounding stations were disconnected, as the tunnels were vital pipelines, making transport of troops and supplies easier. Yet with the animal problems, most stations were on their own, such as Station 3-8, and Station 4-11.

Krat sighed in frustration quite often. His father was a realtor from Alderaan, and owned properties across the galaxy. After his homeworld's destruction, Krat became the de facto leader of his father's business, having been away selling property on Kuat. After his recruitment into the Alliance, he had offered Command various base locations, such as Dantooine, Polis Massa, and Ryguerro. Each suggestion had been turned down, most having already been home to Rebel forces in the past. Therefore, when Hoth came along, while he couldn't offer something better, he was disappointed that Command had ordered base construction so quickly.

Though his frustrations were many, he did find that Hoth had some benefits. Its solidarity and weather patterns would hide Echo Base from long range patrols, and it was far enough away from core Imperial operations that the chances of even a scout ship stumbling onto their presence was non-existent. Unless the Empire knew they were there, the Rebels couldn't be found.

It also provided him with much needed time in the flight simulator. Krat was recruited without much reason. He remembered the encounter more like a rescue. He only stuck with the Alliance for the first few months as a way to hide from the Empire. He had never handled a blaster, had never fixed a droid, never even piloted his own starcraft. However, after a stern discussion with several Alliance officers, Krat decided to work on his piloting skills. The simulator seemed like an easy challenge; pilots such as Tycho Chelchu and Wes Janson would rack up hundreds of hours in the sim without so much as a frown. So, when Krat hopped into the chair for the first time, he didn't expect to be killed in less than thirty seconds. The second time, he managed to make it to the simulated Star Destroyer, but ultimately fell after his first shot. Ten tries, and he still hadn't managed to tank a single TIE.

Krat cursed under his breath as he was blasted in the back for the twelfth time. One of the Snowspeeder pilots, a dark-haired woman named Dorovio, approached him.

"Having trouble?" she asked.

Startled, Krat turned around in surprise. Krat took in Dorovio's sight, and attempted to brush off his failures.

"Eh, it's nothing," he shrugged. "Just not used to the Incom controls."

Dorovio peeked at the simulator's settings.

"Um, that's an A-wing you're piloting. Kuat Systems Engineering. Different control set entirely."

Krat looked back at the screen, stunned.

"I knew that…" he muttered.

"What exactly is the troubling part?" Dorovio asked.

"I'm not sure," Krat straightened, "I think the firing controls are jammed. See when I do this," Krat pushed the two joystick buttons that made the lasers fire, causing two red bolts to appear onscreen. "Actually, I'm having trouble maneuvering," Krat hopped around in the chair, "maybe it's the seat…"

"The seat isn't the problem," Dorovio smiled, amused. Krat visibly deflated at that. Dorovio set her helmet upon a nearby crate, gesturing to the controls. Krat hopped out, saying, "Be my guest."

Dorovio sat in the chair, and started another simulation. Krat watched in mock boredom as Dorovio led her fighter from the hangar bay to the battlefield. His expression turned into a more genuine shock as he watched the TIE fighters crumble to dust on screen. Dorovio launched proton torpedoes at the _Imperial II_ 's shield generators, and veered away for the simulated bombers to finish it off. As she landed, she stared at Krat, waiting for the inevitable comment that was,

"How'd you do that!?"

Without fail.

"I was a cadet on Cycris IV. I specialized in Starfighter control. TIEs mostly, but Kuat and Sienar craft have shared control functions. But, I think you'd be more comfortable with an Incom craft. How about an Airspeeder?"

"I've seen those things in action. Quite the curveballs."

"X-wing?"

"Are you crazy? Only the best can fly those."

"Then why don't we start slow. BTL bomber should do," Dorovio booted up the sim.

"Now wait just a minute. I'm not here to be babied!"

Dorovio sat back, giving Krat an incredulous look.

"Perhaps the flight sim isn't your thing. How about target practice instead?"

Before Krat could answer, a voice came from behind.

"Are you two done hogging the flight sim? I need to get some more practice. There's a maneuver Wedge wants me to try," said a pilot named Bran.

"Sure, Bran. Which one is it?" Dorovio asked.

"The Kessel Slicer. I've never seen turns so tight."

"I know. That's why I'm glad I'm not a Rogue," Dorovio smiled.

"Ah, come on, Vi. With your track record, you and Wedge could _be_ Rogue Squadron. You wouldn't even need the rest of us."

"Don't forget Tycho and Luke. No one's ever beaten Skywalker's score."

"True. Still, I think you'd be a great asset. Either way, is the sim free?"

"Oh, right! Go right ahead," Dorovio hopped out and grabbed her helmet, giving Bran the chair. She nodded towards the barracks, and Krat followed her lead.

"So, your name's Vi?" Krat asked.

"Short for Dorovio. My last name's Bold. And you must be…?"

"Krat Nyo," he replied proudly. Dorovio laughed.

"The Realtor?"

"How do you know that?"

"You've become sort of an in-joke around the base. Don't take it personal though, if anything, you have an eye for scenery," Dorovio chuckled.

"If anything?" Krat asked in offense. "Are you implying that I have no other worth to the Alliance?"

"I'm confused by the word 'other'," Dorovio smirked. Krat frowned. He was used to mocking from the guys, but coming from her, it dealt a massive blow to his self-esteem.

"Oh, cheer up. I didn't mean to upset you," Dorovio said. "Here, let's start over," she extended her hand. "Hi, I'm Dorovio. What's your name?"

"Krat. Krat Nyo," Krat shook her hand.

"What's your profession?"

"Realtor."

Dorovio winced.

"Anything else? Like, pilot, ground trooper, technician?"

"Not exactly," Dorovio gave him the same look. "No."

"Why are you here, then?"

Krat looked into Dorovio's eyes. Instead of disdain, he saw confusion. A genuine willingness to understand his plight. Krat sighed in defeat and expounded.

"My dad died on Alderaan and I inherited his business; in fact, I was selling properties off-world when the attack happened. A few weeks later, I was caught in the middle of a Rebel operation. The soldier saw me, and asked if I wanted to get out of there. I said yes. They asked me no questions, whisked me away with a bunch of engineers, doctors, and freedom fighters. What could I offer the Rebellion? I could offer them a home, several, in fact. It was my only useful contribution. Then we reached Hoth. After years of close encounters, and narrow escapes, I never managed to pick up a blaster and fire. I always ducked and dodged. My time with the Alliance is drawing to a close."

"So, why are you still here?"

"I joined the Rebellion as an accident. Not out of some grand purpose, but out of fear. I've never been worth much. I can sell a mean four-story house, but I can't make a difference. Everyone else here, they can add to the overall effort. I can't even make waffles."

"Janson makes great waffles," Dorovio commented.

"I was here to hide. But cowardice won't save me from the Empire. I'm here to find my purpose."

Krat slumped against the tunnel wall. Dorovio walked over, slumping next to him.

"I'm here because I lost my best friend. And my mom. I never knew my dad, but my uncle was an official on Alderaan. He taught me many things growing up. And when I went to the academy, every year I'd come home to hear his words of wisdom. He once said that every bird, every insect, every blade of grass, had a purpose. It was an integral part of every ecosystem. He said that even the most useless bolt, if removed, could disable an entire space station. Because the thing is, nothing, and yes, no _one_ , is truly useless."

"That was…specific," Krat muttered.

"Well, my best friend also attended the academy. And well, she wasn't the sharpest tool in the box. She caused a lot of accidents during the exercises, and well, she wasn't well-liked. You see, the other cadets mocked her as being useless, a klutz. Until one day, our sniping instructor used her destructiveness as an advantage. He taught her to use surrounding objects to aid her sniping ability. She wasn't great at headshots, not until her final year, but she would nix every target, every time. It was rarely, if ever tidy, but it got the job done. She was the best sniper in the class, and she got extra points for 'imaginative tactics'. Long story short, her disadvantage in one area helped her in another. And sometimes, you have to discover what makes you useful."

"But almost everyone knows the galaxy and its sights. I don't know how much of a strength that is," Krat stated, worriedly.

"You'd make a great navigator in a fighter group," Dorovio deduced, "Your knowledge of celestial bodies combined with effective tactics, and you could, for instance, win a battle in an asteroid field."

"But that would still require me to be a pilot," Krat countered.

"Why are you so opposed to the idea?" Dorovio asked. "You're a long way from Wedge's thousand-hour simulator log, but you'll get there. With practice. And maybe some help."

"You're offering to help me?"

"You need a new nickname. 'The Realtor' won't inspire much confidence in the Rebellion," Dorovio teased.

Krat chuckled at that, "You're right."

Bran came through the tunnel.

"I'm heading to the mess, guys. Wanna come?"

"Sure thing. By the way, Bran, do you think Krat could be a Rogue someday?"

Bran looked at the slumped Rebel before him. He contemplated making a joke before saying, sincerely, "Anyone can achieve greatness. Either way, I'd be happy to fly alongside him anytime. Just get him in the air first."

As the trio traveled down the hall, Krat asked, "So, what is for dinner?"

"Janson's making waffles, Taanab style."


	3. A Flawed Strategy

_Teetilist System, 5ABY_

The _Imperial_ -class Star Destroyer _Shattered Beacon_ cast its shadow over the planet Teetilist. A world long abandoned by civilization, it was the home to one of the last Imperial Intelligence stations. In the months following the Battle of Endor, the New Republic, no, the Rebellion, had pushed their way deep into the heart of Imperial operations. Shipyards had fallen. ISB networks had been dismantled. Academies were sieged.

Aru Eadale, the admiral of ISB Tango Fleet, had watched the evolution of military intelligence since it's revitalization during the Clone Wars. He had served as a coordinator of fleets and organized commando groups. He was an overseer of several Republic Intelligence field agents, and was eventually placed in charge of Foxtrot Initiative, a unit of elite clones dedicated to stopping the subversive threats: treason, insurgency, _rebellion_.

Thus, despite hoping to provide Imperial Intelligence with his advanced knowledge in anti-terror tactics, he was assigned to the ISB following the rise of the Empire. And to him, he had made the best of it. He worked long and hard in building spy networks, maintaining a steady flow of information which helped the war effort. He policed the citizens of over a dozen worlds, watching the fear, the indifference, and the anger of many. He had arrested more treasonous individuals than he could count, and at times, he longed for the days of the Clone Wars. When Republic Intelligence focused on hunting those that sought to wreak havoc upon the innocents of the Republic.

However, the Emperor had forgotten, in his quest for peace and security, that their enemy laid beyond the Core and Mid-Rim worlds. In the shadows of the Outer Rim hid the terrorists, and the rebels. By turning on those whom it sought to protect, the Empire had exacerbated its situation. Thus, when war broke out over Scarif, Aru was not surprised. Though the move was hastily made, leaving the Empire no time for warning, it was an eventuality. And Eadale knew that instead of biding its time, building Death Stars and executing "traitors", the Empire should have focused on stopping the numerous Rebel cells that had already arisen. By destroying targets like Phoenix Squadron and Massassi Group early, the Battle of Scarif would never have taken place. Yet, Aru admitted, his sources within Rebel space provided little information, and offered little foresight into the Rebels' plans.

Scarif was a spur of the moment decision. Most cells did little more than blip onto Imperial radars. Long and strategic military operations often focused on rallying support and gathering supplies for the Alliance than engaging Imperial forces in long campaigns. So, while his net was vast, his catch of information was small, but what he did learn reinforced one idea into his mind: The Rebels were afraid. Despite their cries of bravery and liberation, they hadn't gathered the courage to take their war to the Galactic scale. Yet something had sparked them into action. The Galactic Civil War did not start with whispers of cells grouping together, plotting a slow yet steady rise to power. No, it started with a bang, as the first fully armed and operational Rebel fleet emerged over Scarif. They acted out of desperation, and they had won.

Then it dawned on Aru. The Empire had picked a losing strategy to deal with the Rebels. It swatted away minor attacks, toppled minor insurrections, capitalized minor offences. It kept the Rebellion at bay. It was complacent, confident in its power to keep citizens in line. Yet the Rebels had picked a strategy Aru admired, one in which they took every opportunity to penetrate Imperial blockades, seeking out and testing the strength of each border world. And while they failed at first, eventually, their targets caved under repeated assault. Victory became contagious, and eventually their success led to the Rebellion moving deeper and deeper towards the Galaxy's core. They were timid at times, yet their overall aggressiveness had granted them legitimacy.

So, while Scarif was a show of Rebel efficiency, the subsequent Battle of Yavin proved to be a display of Imperial arrogance. Unfortunately, the Empire's incompetence did not stop there. Many considered the Battle of Hoth a success. But Rebel Command had escaped. All the Rebels lost was expendable units, and some time, time that was quickly regained. Yet the Admirals at the battle returned to their stations feeling proud of themselves. Eadale watched with concern, and growing frustration at his Empire. They were never going to win like this.

A year later, and Imperial arrogance once again reared its stupid head. This time, Emperor Palpatine had masterminded a scheme that, in his mind, could never fail. He orchestrated a leak of Imperial Intelligence, one that left many an officer shaking their heads in silent denial. The mighty war machine that was the Empire, could not have reduced itself to a fool's gamble, or so they thought. Aru did not believe it, until a source confirmed a Rebel meeting over Sullust, solidifying the fact that the Rebels were indeed in possession of the second Death Star plans.

As the _Shattered Beacon_ watched the Battle of Endor from the third line of ships, Eadale knew that the Empire had lost, consumed by its own complacency and arrogance. After the battle, he retreated to Teetilist, gathered what few ISB agents he could, and waited. With the death of the Emperor came the birth of the New Republic. It was a title that Aru refused to award the Rebels. The Empire lost because it had misdirected its intelligence efforts, squandered resources on ridiculous superweapons, and in the end, became completely complacent. The remains of the Imperial fleet in shock, the Rebels devastated the once mighty war horse, launching the longest war campaign since the Outer Rim Sieges.

And now, the Empire had been beaten back to a few territories. Teetilist being the most remote. Eadale's meager fleet contained his flagship _Shattered Beacon_ , plus two _Victory-_ class, and three Tartan cruisers. A _Raider-_ class corvette served as the communications ship, and finally, an Interdictor rounded off the eight-ship convoy. Eadale was approached by his captain, a young officer who was as exhausted by the pointlessness of the continued fight as Aru was. Sian Keplin calmly related a fleet-wide message to his admiral. Gallius Rax was preparing for a large engagement with the New Republic, and insisted that the Star Destroyers in development at Kuat were vital to the battle's success, and needed to be operational before the New Republic could attack. Moff Maksim had requested several fleets to join the defense fleet over Kuat, and Tango Fleet was one of them.

A course had been set, and Tango Fleet was off to Kuat. Aru Eadale hailed a final sigh. The Empire's curtain was drawing to a close. Yet he resolved within himself to see it through to the end. For all its faults, he made an oath, and his loyalty was unwavering, despite his unvoiced complaints.

Tango Fleet emerged in the Kuat system. Eadale wondered how metal husks could look so lifeless, broken, and defeated. Though their seals were airtight, the fleet represented the despair felt within. Eadale went on a walk through the stations of his flagship, and while the troops stalked the halls, conversing about this and that, there was no sense of commitment anymore, no zeal. ISB field agents had begun transferring to the nearby station via shuttle. It was a waiting game, one that everyone already couldn't wait to be over.

Days went by. The relative carelessness began turning into fear. The longer the Rebels waited to attack, the higher the chance of Moff Maksim's defense fleet facing a numerically superior foe. Communication between the individual ships began to stir. At every waking moment, a buzz could be heard around the fleet. When would the New Republic attack? The fleet had finished four new Star Destroyers, and all production ceased. Workers fled to the planet surface, and the Kuati people looked up to the sky in worry. A week and a half passed, and the buzz died. Complete silence. Steady eyes searched each distant star.

Two weeks had passed since Tango Fleet's arrival. A blip of static came from the ISB station. Eadale and Keplin stared through the viewport of the _Shattered Beacon_ at the lone outpost. Then, a Gallofree transport jumped out of hyperspace, spearheading straight into the station. As the bridge crew of the _Shattered Beacon_ looked on, Eadale's mind echoed one finality: _This is it._

X-Wings were the first to emerge from hyperspace. Then came the A-Wings, the B-Wings, the Y-Wings, and all manner of Rebel craft. Though he found himself at odds with this fleet, Aru smiled in awe, reminding himself of the times the Republic would emerge in a system, and what that presence stood for. All hands went to their battle stations, and Aru stood at the holotable with elegant vigor. He knew that it was the end. Yet he didn't want to go any other way but this. A death at the hands of a respectable enemy. And the closure of knowing that he stayed loyal, until the end.


	4. Escort of the Ascension

_Hoth, 3ABY_

The impossible had happened. The Empire had found them. The rebels stationed on Hoth scrambled to organize an evacuation of its leaders and key personnel. The Wilderness Fighters and other groups had filled the trenches, while Luke and his Rogues filled the snowspeeders. The Empire was approaching, a fleet overhead, and strike forces on the ground. General Organa had just briefed the pilots who were to escort the transports through the blockade. There wasn't an idle soul at Echo Base, and with good reason.

Krat Nyo had been battling through the flight simulator for the past three weeks, aided by fellow pilot Dorovio Bold. When the time to evacuate Echo Base arrived, Krat was inducted into Green Squadron as Green Twelve, and paired with Dorovio, Green Eleven, in defending one of the transports.

Arvel Crynyd, commander of the flight group, had aided the first transport off world.

"The first transport is away! The first transport is away!"

Screams of joy filled the snowy halls as the other rebels realized that they had a chance. Nanda Prowl, and her flight partner Seeven Alick quickly took off with the second transport. As the remaining ships filled up, Dorovio and Krat sat by their fighters as they were refueled.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Dorovio asked. "There's still time to board a transport."

"Of course, I'm ready. I have to do this."

"There'll be other chances, you know," Dorovio reasoned. "You'd be safer in a GR75."

"Adon's got less than a hundred hours in the flight sim. If he's flying, then so am I. Besides, I'd like to be in control of my fate. If I get shot, it'll be my own fault, not someone else's."

"That's…a little rough."

The crewmen detached the hoses, and motioned for the two to get to work. Krat and Dorovio donned their helmets, and boarded their fighters. General Rieekan approached.

"Transports three and five have been shot down, and we lost one of the escort groups. The Imperials are tightening the blockade. We'll give you an opening. Stay close to the disabled Destroyer, and you may have a chance. As always, may the Force be with you."

Krat looked at Dorovio.

"Well, that was encouraging," he quipped. As the flight crew moved away from the fighters, Dorovio and Krat began their pre-flight systems check. With the necessary switches flipped, and buttons pressed, Dorovio led the flight com.

"This is Green Eleven checking in. We are ready for takeoff. Green Twelve, do you copy?"

"I copy. Green Twelve standing by."

" _This is command. You are cleared for takeoff."_

"Hang on, Krat."

The two fighters lifted into the air, and sped out of the hangar towards the launching transport. Dorovio's X-Wing turned while sliding under the GR75, covering its portside. The two pilots heard the sharp bursts of ion energy as the cannon fired into the blockade.

" _Green Eleven, Green Twelve, head to point A-3-6. The Star Destroyer_ Maximus _has taken a direct hit. Blues Six and Seven will cover your right flank. Reds Eleven and Fourteen will cover you from the left."_

The two Y-Wings from Blue Squadron appeared on radar. The BTL-S3 model, each contained a pilot and gunner. Ronor Castian and his wingman sped ahead of the group, exiting the atmosphere to a welcoming squad of TIE Fighters. Blue Seven took a hit to his starboard engine, causing the bomber to split instantly. Krat saw the stray engine falling towards him. He spun to avoid it, before recognizing the source.

"Vi, we've got incoming!"

"I copy, Green Twelve. Take point and cover the transport."

"What if I get hit?"

"This is what you signed up for," Dorovio remarked. "Red Eleven, swing to take the fighters on the starboard side. Red Fourteen, cover Green Twelve and prepare to jump."

" _Blue Five, what's your status?"_ Red Eleven called.

" _Lost my wingman. We're holding off our tails, but the Star Destroyer's coming back online."_

" _Green Eleven, we'll never get through if those guns are reactivated,"_ Red Fourteen said.

"I'll scout ahead, cover Blue Five, and take out a few of those guns. Red Eleven, Red Fourteen, stay with the transport. And Green Twelve, try not to get killed."

"Good idea," Krat quipped. The TIEs were coming at him from all angles, yet he steadied his craft, letting off a few pointblank shots.

Reds Eleven and Fourteen cut through the first wave of fighters, losing a few who slipped through to the planet below. Dorovio took off after Castian, blowing away three TIEs in the process. As the group continued to bat away enemy fighters, Krat noticed two more Star Destroyers coming into view.

"Um, guys?"

" _What is it Green Twelve?"_

"We're being boxed in."

" _I see them. Green Eleven, you copy?"_

"I see them too, Red Eleven. Everyone, full speed towards the _Maximus_. Blue Five, switch to proton torpedoes. Head for the bridge."

" _I copy, Green Eleven. I like where this is going."_

" _Green Twelve, time to make yourself useful. Green Eleven and Blue Five need cover fire. Red Fourteen, stay with the transport. Screen for remaining fighters. Green Twelve, follow me and begin strafing the guns on that Star Destroyer."_

"I thought it was disabled," Krat said.

" _Then let's keep it that way, kid."_

Krat gulped and strayed into the battle that had begun anew, as more TIE Fighters launched at the group. Red Eleven tanked a fighter though the viewport, tilting to hit two more behind it. Krat tilted to the opposite angle, firing as fighters streamed onto his targeting screen. After blowing away two, a screech came from Red Eleven, TIEs had snuck up from behind. Krat frantically spun this way and that, attempting to shake his tails.

" _Green Twelve, what are you doing!?"_ Red Fourteen cried.

"I can't shake them!"

" _Green Twelve, this is command. Steady your fighter. You're almost to the jump point."_

" _You can do this, Krat,"_ Dorovio said over the com. _"Just don't panic. Remember your maneuvers."_

Krat's fighter stopped spinning. With determination, Krat darted ahead in his X-Wing. Castian's gunner pointed out that Krat had joined them, and Dorovio caught a glimpse of him through her viewport.

"Krat, about those fighters?" Dorovio asked, concerned.

"Come on, Vi. We can take 'em!"

Dorovio nodded inside her cockpit. "Copy that, Green Twelve. Let's show them what we got."

Dorovio and Krat reversed their thrusters, maneuvering around the TIEs behind them. After regaining forward motion, the two X-Wings tanked several of the TIEs pursuing Castian's bomber, while his gunner held off the remaining tails.

"All craft, prepare to jump," Dorovio said.

Inside the _Maximus,_ an officer approached his captain.

"Weapon systems are online."

"They've wasted their chance. Fire at…wait, what's that?"

Blue Five sped towards the bridge.

"Evacuate the bridge!"

" _Firing proton torpedoes."_ Castian pulled up as the torpedoes ripped towards the _Maximus_ , tanking the bridge, and setting off a chain reaction throughout the ship. As the other Destroyers reached firing distance, Dorovio sounded the call, "Begin the jump to lightspeed."

Dorovio's fighter launched first, followed by Castian, Krat, Red Fourteen, and the transport. Base confirmed the safety of the last transport, while Rieekan called for the next convoy.

"Adjust the cannon to fire at point A-6-4. Their boxing attempt has left that area vulnerable."

 _Haven, Rebel Rendezvous Point._

The transport _Ascension_ emerged with its convoy at the rendezvous coordinates. The _Quantum Storm_ and other transports were waiting. The Nebulon-B Frigate _Redemption_ hailed the transport.

" _Welcome, transport_ Ascension _. General Adderic, Commander Ruce, report for debriefing."_

Dorovio and Krat's X-Wings joined the rest of the fighters in the area.

" _Green Eleven, Green Twelve, welcome back,"_ Arvel greeted over the com.

" _Green Twelve? Krat, is that you?"_ Bran Klik asked in surprise.

"I'm here, Bran."

" _First battle, and he made it out alive,"_ Dorovio said.

" _That's all that matters,_ " Arvel replied. _"Welcome to the Greens, kid."_

" _The Greens? That's what we're calling ourselves?"_ Roma Toff, Bran's wingmate, asked.

" _It's a work in progress,"_ Arvel said.

" _Makes me want to say something like, 'Eat your veggies!'"_ Bran quipped.

" _That's my point. Greens are supposed to be good for you,"_ Roma said.

" _We're good for the Galaxy,"_ Arvel defended.

" _But not for the Empire,"_ Roma said, the headshake evident in her tone.

"Is it always like this?" Krat asked.

" _Eh, you should hear the Rogues' chats,"_ came Dorovio.

" _Hey!"_ Bran cried.

"Wait a minute, weren't you a Rogue, Bran? What happened?"

" _Quick reassignment."_

" _So, don't get used to the veggie joke,"_ Roma quipped.

A sarcastic laugh rang over the com, as another transport exited hyperspace. Two of the other Green Squadron pilots, Nanda Prowl and Seeven Alick, stayed quiet throughout most of the group's idle exchange.

" _Green Three, Green Four, you alive over there?"_ Bran called.

" _Maintaining radio_ silence," Seeven replied.

" _Just worried about my brother. That's all,"_ Nanda said.

Some within the group knew she was referring to a pathfinder named Scott Prowl. They had joined the Rebellion together, and were constantly on the lookout for each other, one in the air, the other on the ground.

" _He'll be fine, Nan,"_ Dorovio reasoned, _"It'll take more than a few AT-ATs to stop him."_

" _I'm more concerned with the blockade."_

" _All we can do is sit and wait for the rest to arrive,"_ Arvel said. " _Once General Rieekan is here, we'll get the report."_

It had taken hours. Several transports had arrived, and it was beginning to look like a massacre had occurred. Finally, the _Bright Hope_ emerged, with Wedge Antilles and Wes Janson in tow. Carlist Rieekan's voice filled the fleet coms.

" _Hoth has been lost. We lost over half our transports, and multiple fighter escorts, as well as base personnel. Our ground troops suffered heavy losses, but several squads managed to survive. We have lost contact with General Organa, and Luke Skywalker has departed from the fleet. This is a sad day for the Alliance. However, we have survived. Those of you gathered here have ensured the survival of this Rebellion, and have solidified hope for the liberation of the Galaxy. We are to follow the scatter protocol, and rendezvous with what remains of our fleet. Jump to your received coordinates, and may the Force be with you."_

As several fighters and transports burst into hyperspace, the remnants of Green Squadron followed the transports _Ascension,_ _Sunspot,_ and _Rosebud_ to their destination. Upon arriving near a star cluster, the rebel unit joined a larger fleet of MC80s, Nebulon-Bs, and CR90 corvettes.

Green Squadron landed their fighters in the hangar bay of the MC80 cruiser _Freedom's Ring_ for refueling, and to stretch their legs. Krat walked through the pristine halls of the _Freedom's Ring_ , taking in the sights of the various technicians, soldiers, and officers of various species around the ship. It was his first time on board a ship of its size, and the amount of personnel was astounding.

He witnessed Nanda hugging a trooper in Echo Base gear, while Roma and Bran were chased down the corridor by a redheaded male pilot. He stood watching Bothan officers relate information to each other and sighed. This was what it felt like to be a part of something bigger.

"I remember my first time on one of these." Krat spun around at the sound of Dorovio's voice.

"I felt like the Rebellion was truly something grand. And it is. These people have histories, and stories to tell. And they're all here for a common purpose," Dorovio nodded at Krat to finish her sentence.

"To provide hope for the Galaxy," he said. Dorovio smiled, tugging at her helmet's chinstrap.

"You did good back there. You saved lives."

"I did what I could," Krat humbly replied. "I seemed to work an X-Wing just fine."

"Up until the frantic spinning," Dorovio joked.

"I hear it's a good trick."

"Maybe it is."

Krat cleared his throat. Dorovio shuffled slightly, asking, "Are you hungry? The mess hall is on deck seven. Come on, I'll take you there."

Krat followed Dorovio down the hall, quickly closing the distance between them. As they walked and talked, Krat felt something spark within. He'd had a taste of his purpose within the Alliance, and that taste grew sweeter with each passing moment. He still had a long road ahead of him, but he was ready for the challenge.


	5. Scott Prowl

_Hoth, 3ABY_

"Prepare for ground assault."

All stations were standing by. SpecForce soldiers, Pathfinders, and Wilderness Fighters all scrambled to the trenches defending Echo Base. Word spread fast about the imminent Imperial invasion, and all non-essential personnel had begun evacuating. Scott Prowl, a Pathfinder with the 32nd Mobile Infantry Unit, also called Spawn Company, trudged through the snow with artillery batteries, while his fellow troopers rigged cable lines.

Outpost Beta, located in the tundra northeast of Echo Base, had already mustered a powerful defensive line of P-Tower turrets, and DF.9 Anti-Infantry batteries. As the last of the P-Tower turrets were set up, Scott reported to his lieutenant, Chirad Meyer, for an assignment. Instead of manning the turrets, Scott was sent into the trench, alongside dozens of his fellow soldiers. Unshouldering his A280 rifle, Scott covered his mouth with his scarf, and pulled the goggles down over his eyes. While many of the other troops sat slumped in the trench, waiting tensely for the enemy to arrive, Scott and a few others stood, pressed against the snow, rifles in hand, fingers trigger-ready.

The first report came in from Outpost Delta. _Gozanti_ cruisers were landing AT-ATs on the Moorsh Moraine. The battle would soon commence. As the rebels surrounding Scott got up to begin their defense of Echo Base, a sharp burst of fire was heard. The first transport had launched under fighter escort. As the _Quantum Storm_ fled into hyperspace, the faces of all present rose. Their plight wasn't hopeless. In fact, they were the most crucial part of the evacuation plan. Engaging the Imperials head on was important. The longer the Imperials were held back, the more rebels could escape.

"Alright, listen up," Lieutenant Meyer stepped into the trench. "We're here to hold the line. As soon as those Imps come walking our way, you start shooting. Don't care about whether you hit or miss. Your kill count doesn't matter. The lives of your fellow soldiers, and everyone here at Echo Base does. If we're overrun, that's okay. Retreat to the next outpost, and then the next. Victory is not an option, but survival is. May the Force be with us."

Lieutenant Meyer walked away, wrapping up with his scarf. Scott looked around at the SpecForce soldiers to his right and left. They all nodded in unison. Quiet fell upon the group. Their radios buzzed again. Sergeant Callum reported walkers on the North Ridge. As all waited for the enemy to become visible, the first sign of arrival was a blast to a nearby DF.9. The five soldiers surrounding it fell dead from the explosion.

"Incoming!" Corporal Beaker sounded.

The trench packed with Rebels began to let off fire from all batteries. Each turret had a distinct sound as it fired into the distance. The AT-ATs were out of range for the relatively puny A280 blasters, but that didn't stop several cartridges from being emptied into the distance. Another blast came raining down, this time directly hitting the trenches. A cry came from Scott's right. A surviving private crawled towards safety.

"Get a medevac!"

Two troopers left the firing line to pull the private out of the trench. Scott looked through his scope, searching for the AT-AT that had fired upon them. Visibility was still low, yet as the head peered through the fog, the trench was hit with another burst of fire. This time, Scott fell to the ground, taking cover, as several of his comrades were hit with suppressive fire. Scott crawled through the trench, darting through an opening to another one. Several soldiers were abandoning the first trench, some getting hit by shrapnel as more turrets were destroyed.

A few Blue Squadron pilots flew by overhead, racing towards the walkers in their Airspeeders. Scott looked overhead, seeing the group take a few casualties as they laid down cover fire for the scrambled ground forces. Another Ion blast was heard as the second transport left orbit.

Scott raised his fist and shouted in joy. The other rebels looked at him in bewilderment. Another pathfinder noticed the transport blink into hyperspace and joined the battle cry. The others took the transport's escape as a victory all its own. With renewed determination, they resumed the fight, entering another trench, and continuing the assault.

Scott could hear dialogue from his comrades all around.

"Hold the line!"

"For the Rebellion!"

"Eat heat!"

Blue Squadron wrapped around the advancing walkers, firing and taking fire, as the remaining turrets battered the legs and joints of the AT-ATs. AT-STs hurriedly stepped into view, unleashing barrages of fire upon the scattered rebel positions. One soldier, named Tino, shouldered a rocket launcher, firing upon one of the scout walkers. The AT-ST took a direct hit to the head, blowing apart instantly. Scott and fellow trooper Rice ran to provide cover fire for Tino. Scott knelt, while Rice laid completely flat. While Tino reloaded, Rice spotted a white blur moving through the snow.

"Stormtroopers!" Rice yelled. Scott scanned the area through his scope.

"I see them," Scott sniped a few as soon as they were in range. Cass Ridy, a specialist, joined the group, taking up a sniping position next to Rice. Several troops attempted an advance as the AT-ATs resumed their assault. As the rebels vainly attempted to defend Outpost Beta, the order came in for a retreat. Scott, Cass, and Rice began their retreat as Tino got hit by incoming fire. As they left the outpost, stormtroopers had begun engaging SpecForce soldiers in the trench.

Scott, Cass, and Rice had headed towards the Ceyan Range. Separated from command, they pieced information together through radio communications. Their defense wasn't as well planned as they'd initially thought. Rebel forces were scattered across the tundra. Three transports had already been destroyed, and Rogue Leader was down. The only good news to be had, was the mention of at least two confirmed AT-ATs down. Imperial forces had flooded the region, from walkers to foot soldiers. Echo Base had been invaded. Stranded without support, and nowhere to run, things looked bleak for the trio.

Hiding in a cavern by the Ceyan Range, Rice had begun monitoring channels for information on the remaining transports.

"Rice, what've you got?" Scott asked.

"Fifteen transports have already been taken out," Rice replied, a hand still to his ear.

"If we don't hurry to the evacuation site, we'll be stuck here," Cass added.

"Getting on a transport doesn't guarantee our safety," Scott reasoned.

"No, but it does give us a chance."

"We're in luck," Rice said. "At least six transports are still on the ground."

"Then let's hurry. Where's the launch site?" Scott asked.

"Just south of here."

"Come on," Scott grabbed his pack and rifle, walking out after Cass. As Rice turned to follow, a loud growl was heard. The trio turned towards the dark passage leading further into the cave.

"It's time to leave," Scott and Cass rushed outside. Scott looked back towards Rice. He held his rifle high, as a wampa approached.

"Rice!"

"Go on, guys. We can't outrun him. I'll buy you time!"

Scott stared a second longer, turning to run after Cass, who had gotten a head start. Blaster fire rang out, and a snarl was heard.

Cass and Scott slid down the slope leading into the launch pad. The transport _Rosebud_ had begun taking surviving soldiers on board. Cass and Scott rushed to the ship's captain. After gaining passage, Scott and Cass strapped into their seats, stomachs curdling as they wondered whether this transport would suffer the same fate as so many others. At last the captain boarded, and as the _Rosebud_ rose into the air, two bursts of energy were heard, the sign that the Ion Cannon was covering their retreat. Two X-Wings joined the transport as escort. Scott felt the whole craft shake as it left orbit. The fate of this transport, and all its crew, laid in the hands of the pilots guiding the group to safety.

Outside the transport, the X-Wing on the starboard side was hit by cannon fire coming from a nearby Star Destroyer. The _Rosebud_ tilted to avoid fire, while the other X-Wing left the portside to engage the enemy. Making it to the jump point, the _Rosebud_ left the system without its escort.

As the _Rosebud_ entered hyperspace, all the troops aboard sighed in relief. They had made it. After reaching Haven, the _Rosebud_ waited with the surviving transports _Quantum Storm, Sector's Edge, Elliot's Razor, Ascension_ , and others. Eventually, the _Sunspot, Dutyfree,_ and _Bright Hope_ emerged from hyperspace, escorts in tow.

Scott, Cass, and all aboard the _Rosebud_ soberly listened to Rieekan's address. Over half of the launched transports were lost. They had sustained massive casualties, and now had to follow scatter protocol. The _Rosebud_ followed the transports _Sunspot_ and _Ascension_ into hyperspace, joining with the fleet of the _Freedom's Ring_ , an MC80 cruiser, and docking in its hangar bay.

Scott roamed the pristine halls of the Mon Cala ship. His white uniform earned him sad looks from the native crew. The news of Hoth had hit all in the Alliance hard. Scott's uniform was a testament of survival, one worn by several other escaping soldiers. After running into his sister, a pilot who had aided in the evacuation, Scott was joined by other survivors in the mess hall of the _Freedom's Ring_.

"Where do we go from here?" one soldier asked.

"Wherever the Alliance takes us," a sergeant, Leland Friece, assured.

"So, is this it? We're on the run, like before?" another piped up.

"We're not running. Are we, Sergeant?" Scott replied.

"No, soldier. We're readying for the next fight," Sergeant Friece answered.

"Don't let this setback get to you," A corporal, Lance, added.

"We'll rendezvous with High Command and the rest of our fleet soon enough," Sergeant Friece continued. "But until then, let's be grateful for our survival, and remember the lives of those that helped us get here."

"Aye! Aye!" Several soldiers sounded their approval. Scott remembered Rice, Tino, Lieutenant Meyer, and several others at Outpost Beta who sacrificed their lives to let their fellow soldiers survive. Scott and several other Echo Base survivors placed their caps ceremoniously on mannequin heads, and then placed said heads in a display room on the _Freedom's Ring_. Over the door in Aurebesh, it was inscribed, " _For Those Who Died"_.

Scott, Cass, and several other soldiers who had been in the trenches during the battle, but survived, were awarded a veterans' patch, not just for surviving, but for fighting the battle as well.

 _Endor, 4ABY_

Scott was one of many Hoth veterans aboard the Home One for the briefing on the second Death Star. Before the briefing began, Scott stood in a hallway, wiping his blaster with a rag, flashing back to the trenches of Outpost Beta. Suddenly, a frantic Han Solo came rushing towards him.

"Hey, you!"

"Uh, yes sir?"

"What're your qualifications?" Han asked.

"Um, I'm a pathfinder, sir."

"Any major engagements?"

"I was a trench soldier during the Battle of Hoth."

"Perfect! You're on my team. That's one down," Han then ran down the next corridor.

Scott stood confused.

"Team for what?"


End file.
